So Much More to Live For
by ViolaMoon
Summary: Fleur's maternal instinct goes haywire after the Battle of Hogwarts and when nothing seems to happen, she resorts to desperate measures to conceive. She soon learns that some things are not worth risking her life for. Warnings for mentions of infertility, sickness and criminal activities.


**This story was also written for the Final Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: A Different Kind of Magic**

It is important to remember that we all have magic inside us — J.K. Rowling

Each position has been given a book containing a different kind of magic to that of the HP universe. Your task is to take an element of one of these stories and use it as inspiration for your own.

You do not have to use the same type of magic as these stories do. You can take inspiration from whatever you wish (eg a quote, theme, plot point, etc).

**I'm writing as Chaser 1 for The Tutshill Tornados.**

**Chaser 1 prompt: **Into the Crooked Place — Alexandra Christo – the element I am using is the sale and usage of 'illegal/unauthorised' potions, elixirs and other forms of magic' and the consequences of using them.

**These are the prompts I'm using as a chaser to score some extra points:**

7\. [colour] Baby Pink

9\. [character] Fleur Delacour

12\. [location] Shell Cottage

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.**

**Thanks to my fantastic team for betaing!**

**A/N: Warnings for fertility problems, criminal elements, and sickness. Some creative liberties have been taken regarding Fleur's veela heritage, Bill's partial lycanthropy, and the genetics involved.**

**Italics are French (Sorry. I can't write it)**

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**Title: So Much More to Live For**

**Words: 2939**

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The wind caused Fleur's blond hair to spray out around her, but she paid it no mind. She sat on the beach in front of her home, Shell Cottage. Now more than ever, she appreciated the stillness, the loneliness of the isolated location. It eased her troubled mind.

"Darling?" Bill's voice called out from the cottage, and Fleur heard him come towards her. "There you are. It's cold… why don't you come inside?"

Fleur watched the ebb and flow of the water, her eyes lifeless just like her womb.

"It will happen eventually," Bill said, able to tell where her thoughts lay. He sat down next to her, placing a warm arm around her.

"But my mother said that it 'appened right away," Fleur said, a lone tear falling down her cheek.

"I know, but you're not your mother." He pulled her closer and turned her head to look her in the eyes. His eyes shone with concern, love, and hope. She wished she could feel that hope too. "We have only been trying for what… two months? I would be worried if we had been trying for a year or more and nothing had happened." Bill pecked her on the forehead tenderly. "We are still recovering from the Battle… still grieving, and that takes its toll, both physically and mentally. We just have to keep trying. Besides it is a lot of fun, right?" He grinned at her with a saucy wink.

She gave a soft chuckle and pushed him half-heartedly away. He was right about that, but insecurity crept into her with each month, with each failed attempt. What if it never happened? Bill's lips shook her from her spiralling thoughts, and she found herself being carried inside for another attempt.

xx

Two more months passed and nothing happened. Fleur grew more and more concerned with each monthly visitor despite Bill's attempts to talk her out of it. She locked herself in the bathroom to cast the spell to check and frowned once more. She knew that Veelas were notoriously fertile, and her husband was a Weasley; she should be pregnant by now. "_There must be something wrong," _she said out loud to herself in her native tongue. They were also 'doing it like bunnies' as Bill said so quaintly.

Fleur splashed some water on her face and brushed her hair to calm herself; this wasn't like her. She didn't know what had made her so 'baby crazy', but it consumed her thoughts, and she could do nothing but worry about the fact that there were no little Weasleys on their way. All her cousins had been expecting from the very week after their weddings, so why hadn't it happened for them? She was just as Veela as they were, and her last check-up had been positive; the healer said there was no reason why she hadn't conceived yet.

Fleur stepped out of the bathroom and moved through the cottage to the kitchen. Bill had popped out to grab something from his parents, so she had the house to herself.

With a flick of her wand, she put the kettle on and made herself a calming cup of tea while picking up her mail. She had written to an old friend from Beauxbatons about her worries, to unload on someone who wasn't family.

_My dearest Fleur,_

_It is so great to hear from you, and thank you for the baby pink dress for Étienne. She looks so darling in it._

_I am sorry to hear that you are not having luck in your baby-making efforts. I am sure it is just a matter of time, but I wonder could it be something to do with you being part-veela and your darling being a bit wolfish? Maybe that is something to consider. If you are concerned, I know of a place which can help. It is not exactly legal, so I will only reveal if you ask me to tell. I too struggled to conceive, and I went to this place. A little trip, minus a few galleons and look who showed up nine months later! It might be worth a try._

_Let me know if you want the location._

_Yours,_

_Gäel._

Fleur stared at the letter for a moment. Despite her better judgement, she wanted to try it, whatever 'it' was. Maybe it was a special healer or something, someone specialising in magical creatures, but why wasn't it legal? Fleur wrote a quick reply and gave it to their owl; she could at least hear more about it before she made up her mind to go. One thing she knew for certain, Bill wouldn't like it. But what if it was something to do with his lycanthropy and her Veela genes?

Fleur looked at the picture on the side table; it was from their wedding. They looked so happy, and Fleur felt her fingers drawn to her husband's handsome but scarred face. She couldn't tell him of this. He would blame himself. She needed answers first, and then she could broach the subject with him. Better that than to blame him for their infertility. She wouldn't hurt him like that. Fleur stared into photo Bill's eyes, and he smiled back.

That decided it. She could always go, hear this person out and decide there. Regardless, Fleur felt that the answer didn't lie in England, where there were so few of Veela descent. She would have to travel to France for the answer.

Xxx

The familiar tug of a Portkey hit her stomach, and Fleur sucked in her breath. The unpleasantness of the trip would be worth it. Gäel had explained that the place was a market in a hidden part of Montmartre, magical Paris. A black market. She had been instructed to ask for Vladimir, a Russian vendor who stocked special potions and elixirs. He wasn't only a talented healer from the deepest part of Russia but also an excellent potions master who made tailored potions for his patients.

Fleur pulled her coat tighter around her body; it was now late October, and the autumn air had a distinctive chill to it. She had told Bill that she was visiting her sister. She hated lying to him, but if he had known what she was doing, he would have stopped her. Her mother had written to her before she left and explained that her brooding was an instinct thing. She had gone through it at Fleur's age, and it was part of being a Veela, an urgent need to breed and coupled with the stress, grief, and general jubilation of the end of the war, it had sparked into overdrive, making Fleur a nervous wreck. Hopefully, this Vladimir could help.

Pulling her light scarf up to cover her face and to mask her Veela powers, she repeated the incantation at a wall in a dingy alley towards the back of Montmartre. The last thing she needed was attention in a place like this. An opening appeared akin to the entrance to Diagon Alley, and Fleur took a deep breath and stepped through.

The market was bustling; the space was large, easily the size of the Weasley's field behind their house. There were rows upon rows of stands with exotic items and colourful characters peddling their wares. The instructions told Fleur that Vladimir was in the northwest corner of the market, that he wore a purple fedora, and always had a cigar in his mouth.

Despite the illegality of it, the market was full of wizards from all over France and even further afield. Fleur made her way through the market, and her eyes were drawn to stands full of exotic animals, bright robes, and what looked like dark artefacts. It was a good thing she hadn't told any of the Weasleys, or Harry for that matter; this market would be shut down faster than she could say 'Portkey'.

A delectable waft hit her nose as Fleur turned a corner, and her eyes were drawn to a vendor of cakes and pastries just as her hand hit her pocket to pull out her purse.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a gruff voice beside her and she turned her head to see a heavily scarred older man with a purple fedora. "One bite of that and you will be addled and addicted." He pointed behind the stand where a small group of wizards lay, eyes open far too wide and saliva running down their chins.

The man started to wander off, and Fleur shook her head to shake off the feeling. Rushing after him, she called out, "Excuse me, Monsieur, are you Vladimir?" He turned, and with a puff of his cigar, he seemed to survey her for a moment.

"Who's asking?" he said, taking a step forward and whispering just loud enough for Fleur to hear.

"My name is… Madeline," she said, giving a fake name. "A friend of mine said you could 'elp me with a problem." Vladimir tutted and continued walking but gestured for her to follow him.

Once at his stand, he asked her into the back and closed the curtain. "Well 'Madeline' what is the problem? I hope you have the coin; my services are expensive." He put out the now-finished cigar butt and pulled out a new one, lighting it.

Fleur removed her scarf, and his eyebrows rose.

"Veela?" he asked.

Fleur nodded. "Yes, I am a quarter-Veela, and my husband was infected with lycanthropy during the war," she told him. "Not enough for him to turn… we are trying to 'ave a baby and… I fear that our combined conditions complicate the matter."

Vladimir nodded, pulling out his wand and performing a spell in Russian on her and tutted. "Yes, I can see the problem… your womb dislikes your husband's wolf essence, but no problem. I can help. Sit." He pointed at a ratty old sofa in the corner of his 'lab' while he started brewing a potion. Everything in Fleur's body was telling her to run, to stop this madness, but her broody brain was telling her that this was the best option, this potion could give her a baby and foolishly she listened. An hour later and fifty galleons poorer, Fleur left Vladimir's stall with a carefully wrapped bundle of baby pink potions. A little flutter filled Fleur's stomach; she was hopeful.

xxx

Just over a month later and Fleur had her head over the toilet at Shell Cottage. While she had designed the room herself and liked having a good, long soak there, heaving over the toilet was not something she would do willingly. However, she had done this several times a day for the past week. Despite the unpleasantness of her visits to the bathroom, that same hope from her trip to Paris grew in her with each day, and she hoped that something else was growing too.

If only the morning sickness wasn't so violent. After it seemed like she had been given a reprieve, Fleur rose from the bathroom floor and headed downstairs. She had to take her next dose of the potion until she was well into her second trimester. That is what Vladimir had told her. 'Just to make sure it developed properly' were his words.

She shakily walked through the house until she found her potions hidden in a cupboard in the kitchen. She had concealed them from Bill as she knew he wouldn't approve, nor did she want him to think it was his fault that she had to go to these lengths. This was her burden for them, for their love and their family. She would give her darling Bill a family. She pulled out the stopper of the potion and swirled around the baby pink liquid. It looked sickly sweet, but it was bitter and made her toes curl. It was worth it though if it caused life to grow within her.

The next day, Fleur got progressively worse. The room seemed to spin, and she could keep nothing in her. Something wasn't right; she could tell. She knew from her mother's letters that morning sickness should not be this bad, nor should she have headaches and such bad dizziness that the room span around her. She quickly scribbled a note to Bill saying that she had gotten worse, so she was going to St Mungo's. She handed it to their owl and headed over to the fireplace. Taking a handful of Floo powder from a small elegant box on the mantle, she threw it into the fireplace.

"St Mungo's," Fleur said as calmly as she could. The room kept spinning, and she knew she ought to get someone to take her, but she felt like she had no time to lose. She stepped through the fireplace, and just as she slid into the lobby of St Mungo's, her balance shifted, her head met the floor, and then darkness overcame her.

xxx

Fleur's eyes flickered open, and she blinked under the bright white light of the room. Bill's face appeared in front of her, and she saw concern in his eyes.

"What 'appened?" she asked, she tried to sit up and felt a dull ache everywhere. She looked around and saw Molly, Arthur, Ginny and Harry in the back of the room, all looking just as concerned as Bill.

"Love… I don't know how this happened. The healers say you were poisoned," Bill said. "I know you were hoping you were pregnant but all these symptoms… something has been making you very sick." Tears fell down his cheeks, and he gripped her tightly but still as if she was wrapped up in cotton wool. "They said if you hadn't arrived at the hospital when you did… an hour or two more and… and… I would have lost you."

Fleur's stomach sank. Her mind went numb, and she clung to Bill. She had caused this pain. Not only was she not pregnant, but she'd almost died. From that potion. Guilt, shame, confusion, grief for the baby that never was, and so many more emotions swirled around in her head until she couldn't tell them apart. All she could do was listen to Bill, his family and the healer talk about possible causes. Their first suspicion unsurprisingly was that it was a Death Eater, but how this person had poisoned Fleur and only her, they couldn't tell. She knew she had to tell them, but a deep-rooted fear hit her as she tried to voice her confession. What if Bill hated her for it, what if what she had broken the law? Or caused permanent damage? Just as Harry was about to leave, to inform the Aurors, Fleur pushed away her fear.

"'Arry, wait!" she said. "I know what it is… it is not a Death Eater…"

All eyes turned to look at her. "What is it, love?"

She looked around for her bag and pulled out a vial of the baby pink potion.

"What is that, love?" Bill asked. Fleur couldn't read his expression; it was something she had never seen before. The healer took the potion and performed a series of spells on it.

"Where did you get this?" the healer said, waving the vial at her, her voice stern. "This is a vile concoction; it has several components that could kill you on their own in large enough quantities, and it would have. Trust me."

All eyes still faced her, and Fleur felt small and weak. "I got it in a market in Paris. The man said it would help me conceive."

The healer started to scribble some notes down, stepped out of the room for a moment and returned with a huge collection of potions. The healer then explained that they were to treat the poisoning and the damage it had caused. Harry then questioned Fleur for information about this potion's vendor, Vladimir, until Bill told him that she needed to rest and that he would help later.

Xxx

It took Fleur the better part of a month to recover, hidden away in the isolated Shell Cottage. Her relationship with Bill was shaky at first, but once she explained herself, her instinctual need to have a baby and how crazy it had made her, he forgave her but insisted that they talk more about it. He took the month off and waited on her hand and foot and eventually they felt the need to be intimate once more.

One night, Bill asked her out on a date, much like they had back when they both worked at Gringotts. Dinner at the Leaky Cauldron followed by a pleasant walk down Diagon Alley; they rekindled their love for each other. When they went to bed that night, they made love, not to make a baby, to enjoy each other's company and to show that they loved each other.

As luck would have it, that was all it took.

Come the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Fleur, now heavily pregnant stood on the grounds of Hogwarts and thought back to her desperation and her foolish decision to buy the potion. As she saw the happiness around her, she wondered whether it had been worth it. It had. She decided if only to teach herself a lesson, not to take life for granted and to take what life brings you.

An hour later, Victoire was brought into the world, wrapped in a baby pink shawl belonging to her grandmother. Never again would she take life for granted, not when she had so much more to live for.


End file.
